


Small Favors

by oh_simone



Series: tales from the golden age of livejournal [1]
Category: The Chronicles of Chrestomanci - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 02:23:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5988874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_simone/pseuds/oh_simone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh dear," Millie said unhappily, wringing a scented handkerchief. "I told him not to try it- Throgmorten is an Asheth temple cat after all."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Favors

**Author's Note:**

> I've struck upon an old collection of things I'd written years ago! This was written in 2008, my goodness.

"Oh dear," Millie said unhappily, wringing a scented handkerchief. "I _told_ him not to try it- Throgmorten is an Asheth temple cat after all."

 

Gabriel de Witt stood beside her grimly, watching as his apprentice enchanter and the ugly cat in question faced each other, the boy warily, the cat with hackles up, teeth bared, claws out. The rest of the castle staff lingered a good distance away, and many were holding more of Millie's scented handkerchiefs to their noses. Tom the former bootboy had about three tied around his lower face.

 

"Oh Christopher, maybe you should stop now," Millie called out. "Just let Throgmorten be. It isn't all that bad, honestly!"

 

"Don't worry, Millie," Christopher called back, completely ignoring her actual words. "The old fellow just needs a bit of a push. I just need to try one more time."

 

"No, Christopher, don't-" the whole castle shouted, but it was two late. Christopher's magic sizzled and Throgmorten's enraged screeching 'wongs' had everyone within hearing distance slapping their hands over their ears and backing away. His ugly uneven fur stood on end, and Christopher was quite red in the face.

 

"I suppose this is my fault," Millie sighed, waving the handkerchief fretfully. "I only mentioned that Throgmorten smell once or twice. Christopher does get awfully stuck on certain notions."

 

"Not your fault, my dear," De Witt said coolly, and patted her shoulder briefly. "I only wish he would try half as hard with his lessons as he does to please you. Suppose next time he was to overhear you sigh for a studious, obedient suitor."

 

While Millie blushed and buried her face in lacy white cloth, the air around them bent and warped, and when it straightened out again, the awful rotten-egg smell had disappeared... but had been replaced with the strong, buttery taste of popcorn.

 

"Oh, well, suppose that's an improvement," Tacroy noted wryly, then ran down to stop Christopher before he tried any harder.


End file.
